


paint grace-graffiti on the fences

by meryah16



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Pepperony (implied), WAFF, abuse of food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 09:23:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4999423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meryah16/pseuds/meryah16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil isn't paid enough for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	paint grace-graffiti on the fences

Clint meets her at the door, the Starkspawn perched on his hip and chewing the corner of his sleeve in a meditative manner. Natasha ignores her and goes in for a deep and promising kiss, then leans her forehead against his, content to inhale his scent for the moment.  
The Starkspawn kicks her ribs and demands loudly in baby language, so Clint turns to set her down at his feet, whereupon she promptly crawls to the nearest chair to pull herself up. Natasha chuckles.  
     ‘How’d you get stuck with the baby, Clint?’  
He groans.  
     ‘Pepper said she needed a babyless date and Steve begged off right away, Bruce said he and Jane have a time-sensitive experiment, and Darcy vanished before I could ask her to take pity on me.’ A sigh. ‘I did tell Tony I’d give her a bow, but I’m not sure he heard, what with the gazing into his wife’s eyes and all.’ Deeper sigh. Natasha leans into his shoulder.  
     ‘How long ago?’  
     ‘Three hours. I’ve run three-day missions and been less tired, Nat.’  
     ‘Oh, my poor dear husband, having to take care of an infant. I feel so sorry for you.’

***

Clint hadn’t known exactly when Natasha’d be back, but it takes only minutes to add a third portion to the lunch he’s made. They sit at the table, the Starkspawn between them, and Natasha quietly debriefs him on her mission, in between feeding the rambunctious toddler her portion of mac’n’cheese, and a good part of Clint’s. The baby is not a fan of the broccoli Nat added when Clint wasn’t looking, and when Natasha returns from gathering cups and a jug of milk, she finds her plate has a suspicious amount of greens and far fewer noodles.

Things devolve into a food fight.

Clint’s hair is covered in ketchup, Natasha has a handful of broccoli-infested macaroni down the front of her shirt, and the baby is hiccuping with giggles and happily smearing cheese sauce and noodles on her hair, when the door opens. Both adults freeze and look up at Phil Coulson, carrying his briefcase and a cup of coffee.  
Phil steps carefully across the food-covered floor, sets his armload on the cleanest part of the counter, and leans down to pick up the baby.  
     ‘You have ten minutes,’ he informs them. ‘I’ll run her a bath.’


End file.
